Dark Harvest
by ChemiCapz
Summary: Arades. Number 1 on the PVP leaderboards, stays behind for the final minutes of the game that had taken over his life.
1. Chapter 1: Shutdown

A single, purple eye stared balefully at an in-game clock. The heavily armoured figure that eye belonged to shifted uncomfortably on its throne. 23:50. Ten more minutes left in the game that was his life. Number 1 in the rankings, nigh-undefeatable in combat and one of best PVPers the game had ever seen. No that any of this held much weight, anymore. Precious few were even online, let alone trying to climb the leaderboards. YGGDRASIL was a dying game. It would take hours just to find a 1v1 match nowadays, whereas just last year it only took 10 minutes. 23:51. In reality, Arades was a loser. This game, this foreign masterpiece of Virtual Gear technology, made his teenage years the happiest of his life.

23:53. Made him feel strong. Made him feel in control. 23:54. It's detailed NPC system had even allowed him to re-create the light of his life, one no longer of this world in reality. 23:55. Maybe if he had spent just a bit more time outside of this game- No, all of it, Just spending time with her- He maybe wouldn't feel so much regret. So much…guilt, over letting her waste away while he was absorbed in this Fantasy world, this video game. 23:56. Different DMMORPG's, with fresh combat systems, different mechanics- the kind making games like YGGDRASIL obsolete- maybe he could find a new start there. Maybe his love, may she rest in peace, could be made anew, and react to him with just as much joy and happiness as she had in life.

23:57. No more blank stares and pre-recorded audio to greet him whenever he saw her, a top a mound of velvet cushions. 23:58. The figure laid a hand on something by his side. A stick? A staff? No. A sword. HIS sword. the one that had seen him through countless raids and battles. The one with such high damage that the scabbard had to be repaired daily if it was even drawn.

23:59. Arades's helm shifted slightly, looking around him. The interior of his base was made entirely out of weapons, all taken from his wins. From a level 4 chipped rogue dagger, to a titanic greatsword belonging to the previous Number 1 ranking, all were trophies of his numerous victories. Sure, some places were a bit of an eyesore, but it was intimidating, space efficient, and at the end of the day, he could say "I live in a castle made of my success." and that was great. Well, here it was. Midnight in half a minute. The shutdown of the server. The End. The Big Finale. He hefted himself off his throne. Might as well "die"' standing. "Goodbye, YGGDRASIL. It's been…fun." He said. More to himself, then anyone. 0:00. A frown. Must be the shutdown laggi-

Arades stumbled, gracefully collapsing at the feet of his throne. A sharp pang of pain from his knee. He let out a yelp of surprise. A shock of sensations greeted him as his helmet bounced against the uneven floor. Suddenly, he could smell the woody musk of a bow beneath him, the cold embrace of his armour against his skin. Wait, was it skin? Did he have skin? He didn't feel like he had skin. He couldn't feel himself breathing, either. Oh God. He wasn't breathing. He was dying. Did he have a heart attack? Wait. He couldn't feel his heart beating either. Ohhhhh God. Did he die? Was he having a stroke? He had read somewhere the brain is still alive 30 seconds after body death. Terror gripped his non-beating heart. He had read about this, too. A Virtual Gear game once killed people who logged out, ages ago. When was it? 2012? 2022? Jesus Christ. That's nearly a century ago! Technology was supposed to advance so that this kind of stuff didn't happen! Arades was crying. Was he crying? Dead people couldn't cry. Could they? His tears sizzles against the longbow beneath him, slowly burning through. What? Since when were his tears acidic? Panic. He didn't want to die. He wanted to live. He felt like something had been severed. Something in his head. Had an artery been cut off? He felt like it was something important. How was he still thinking? It had been more than 30 seconds, he was sure. Had he been counting?H

e could feel a rumble in the floor, which slowly ascended into a screech, and then an unmistakable, loud, CRASH. A nearby shortsword was lifted off its place on a wall and bounced off of his leg."My Lord! My Lord!" a sharp, ringing voice met Arades's ears. He looked up, a green figure meeting his eyes, and managed to get shaking to his feet, still groggy. "Are you an angel? Am I going to heaven?" He managed, before collapsing again. "I… Lord Arades! Let me help you!" the figure rushed to his side and lifted him up. His eyesight had begun to clear. Oh. It wasn't an angel. Just one of his maintenance NPC's. Wait. He could move! He wasn't dead! He pumped his fist in the air, elation and joy in his chest. "YES! I'M NOT DEAD! ILL NEVER THROW ROCKS AT HOMELESS PEOPLE AGAIN!" Arades screamed, to no one in particular. The NPC shrunk before his towering figure and deafening voice. Arades looked down. He blinked. Since when did NPCs-

"My Lord, please, accept my greatest apologies for not arriving sooner. To think that you had fallen...while *I* was dusting the balcony, this… I can only beg for forgiveness, My Lord!" his maintenance NPC let loose a string of words, cowering in his shadow, clasping her hands in a coming on…religious manner. He squinted with his one blazing, purple eye. She was a gorgon, that he knew. She had the formal attire of all his maintenance NPC's, that he knew also. But now she seemed so much more… vivid. The snakes of her hair writhed outside of the pre-animated loop he knew so well, her eyes darted between the ground and his helm, and she seemed to be…shaking? Strange. She was also speaking dialogue lines he had never heard before, something even stranger considering he had exhausted all her speech options the day he created her. "I…Uh…. It's fine. Your forgiven? I guess?" Came an eldritch, terrifyingly commanding voice. He raised a hand to his throat. By God, was that HIS voice? What in the-

The gorgon positively leaped to her feat, hands on her chest. Were those tears?

"Oh, thank you my Lord! Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou-"

"Alright, okay. You can, uh leave now."

The gorgons bowed so quickly and suddenly she nearly fell over. "Of course my Lord, at once, my Lord". She raced out of the room, looking like she was trying to restrain herself from crying further. What the Hell was going on? Since when did NPC's have.. emotions? Become so lifelike? Since when did he sound like the Grim Reaper? Why could he- Wait. If that NPC could feel, act on its own accord… That meant…A gasp escaped Arades's visor. If what he was beginning to think was true, then… He raced outside of his throne room, barging open the grand door of spears that separated him from the Hallway of Greathelms.

He dashed past the crying gorgon, being comforted by an assortment of butlers and maids. He barely noticed, his mind focused on just…her. To be able to feel her soft hair against his cheek, to embrace her once more.. The thought was too much to bare. He kicked open the door to her assigned room. An NPC stood before him. Soft, Brown locks tumbled down her shoulders like a chocolate waterfall. Shining, beautiful eyes regarded him with shy affection. "M-My Lord.. I..Wasn't expecting yo-"

Arades shoved her into a nearby bookcase, where she stumbled knocked it over, scattering colourful player guides all over the floor. His heart stopped. He could see her. Her head perked up from its resting place on a cotton sheet. Arades clambered up her mountain of cushions and hug-tackled the small dog onto the ground, both of them landing in a heap on top of a blanket hill."Pepi! I've missed you so much! I'll never ever NEVER let you go again!". Arades was half crying, half laughing.

The small corgi licked his helmet happily, stopping only once to let out a joyful bark. Her tiny tail thundered against his breastplate. She was so real... Just as energetic as she had been, always, ready to greet him with scrabbling paws every day he opened the door to come home from work... even when.. when he ignored her, never returned her affection, she still... She still... tears began to burn through the luxury filled interior of the room. He felt the sadness that had chained him for years wash away. What was this new feeling? It was something he hadn't truly felt in a long time. Ah yes, he remembered now.

Happiness.


	2. Chapter 2: Blade Bestie

"Okay, I'm letting you go now."

Arades flung the small dog, so recently within his loving grasp, onto a pile of cushions where it promptly fell asleep. Thank goodness for the 'Grip Of Morpheus' ability, otherwise that might've been a hassle.

Leaping to his feet, he strode out of the room, whistling a tuneless ditty as he did so. It seemed even the spectacular burst of happiness he had felt from seeing his loyal dog again had suddenly been repressed, squashed down by an unseen force, as had his manly weeping in the Throne room. Arades felt, somewhere in the dark recesses of his mind, there was something wrong with what he just did.

Why wasn't he still embracing his only friend? Why had that overwhelming sense of happiness, so long forgotten to him, disappeared as soon as it arrived? Joy within life is a distraction, came a voice in his head. To kill is to live. To live is to kill. Arades frowned. That didn't sound like something his sub-conscious would say.

 _I'm not your sub-conscious you dolt,_ the voice echoed in his head. _Look next to you._ Arades spun around, his fists at the ready. _No, by your side, idiot. In the scabbard._

"What? My sword? Decimator, you can talk?"

 _"Uh, yeah. What did you think It was, doing a backflip? "_

"But your not an NPC!"

 _"I don't know what that means"_

"A, uh, a person"

 _"Well, duh, I'm a sword. Those meatsacks walking around our castle are just cleaners, nothing more, nothing less. Not like me"_

"OUR castle?"

 _"C'mon man, don't blank me like that. We're besties!"_

"Since when?"

 _"Have you forgotten the countless meatsacks we've slain? The adventures we've gone on together? The ones BEFORE you made that stupid furball?"_

Technically, the Decimator had always been at his side, ever since level 1. One of only Arades's only friends, Buraduga, made it for him as a celebration of the clan they formed together. He had never replaced it, simply going to him to upgrade it when it fell behind. Even when the materials required had the lowest drop rates in the game, he had still grinded for them just to see his sword gain a new feature after a day or so with Buraduga.

"I mean… yeah, but I wasn't aware that you were… alive for all of it."

 _"My creator made me of the best materials available. All his works are living, in some way or another."_

"Bugaduga? Huh. He always was a recluse. I guess he was always talking to his walls or whatever."

 _"That doesn't matter now. Why the hell are you going all lovey-dovey on me? A dog? Seriously? I've seen you skin puppies in front of their Mothers!"_

"Hey, hellhound pups have VERY valuable fur coats."

 _"What makes that dog so special? What does she have that I don't?"_

"She doesn't slice open my fingers when I pet her, for one. And she doesn't demand the souls of the living when I pick her up, for another."

 _"I'll stop, if you want, I promise! Can you just leave her out? Why can't it just be you and me?"_

"A man requires a soft and fluffy break once in a while."

 _"But you're not a man."_

"….What?"

 _"Your not a man"_

"I'm no woman, Decimator."

 _"You know what I mean, bestie. Your a Hel Lord_."

"…What."

 _"Pretty special, actually. We've never killed anything like you, before. And we've killed a LOT of things."_

Hel Lord was a unique race, available to the number one ranking on the leaderboard if their current race classified as 'Undead'. Arguably the best race for a warrior class in the game, they not only had massive lifesteal, but huge area and single target debuffs, along with twice the normal amount of special race abilities. This, along with Arades's 5 levels in the "Lord Of The Dark Harvest" class, (Granted as a reward for winning the worldwide event in which the player with the most PK by its end wins) made Arades practically undefeatable in close combat.

Feeling that it was best to see with his own two eyes, along with a healthy amount of mistrust in his sword, Arades stalked over to the Castles bathroom. Not that he needed one, but aesthetic matters in a base as weapon oriented as his.

Pushing open the door, he headed straight towards the mirror, a large polished glass shield taken from an Inquistor in the Dark Harvest event. His hands made their way shakily to his helmet. The grabbed the sides, and he began, very slowly, to lift it off his head.

Arades recoiled, nearly dropping his helmet. A demonic skull stared at him, complete with jutting horns and tusklike canines. It was alight with mauve flames, dancing and coiling around the pale bone. Then, his eyes met his own. Or rather, eye.

In his left socket, burned a purple orb, flickering and writhing against the white of the skull. In his right, there was none, but a long, jagged scar from forehead to chin.

"By God…" muttered Arades, head in hands and helm on knee. His back to the wall, he slowly slid down to the floor, helm on the floor now.

 _"C'mon, Boss, it ain't that bad. I know you haven't taken your helmet off since that World Championship thing, but I don't see what the fuss is about. Scar's just a cosmetic item, anyway. You can take it off anytime."_

Arades leapt to his feet, drawing the Decimator as he did so, holding it to his face.

"REALLY, Dec? I can take THIS off?" He jabbed his fingers at his nightmarish head. "I'm HIDEOUS! I should always keep that STUPID helmet on…"

The sword quivered in his hand. Fear? A gesture of support? He couldn't tell. It's voice sounded again, slightly gentler in his head.

 _"Bestie, it's just a scar. You don't have to wear it. It is what you make it out to be, and right now your making it a big deal."_

"ITS NOT THE BLOODY… ugh. It's not the scar, Decimator. I know your just trying to help. Its… something else. I'm just not use to seeing... this. Whatever this is."

Arades gestured disgustedly at his dread visage.

 _"Boss…Bestie… It's really not that bad. We've killed some nasty stuff. And YOU, Sir, do not come close to that nasty stuff. I mean, I've actually never seen you without your helmet. I always thought you were just really, exceptionally ugly."_

"Alright.. Okay. Its not that bad, I guess. As far as undead go."

 _"Sure isn't, Bestie! Some Hel-spawn would find you rather fetching, actually!"_

"Y-..You think?"

 _"Hel yeah, Bestie! Even if you DID look parmesan cheese through a grinder, I'd still be behind you, One hundred percent of they way!"_

"Really?"

 _"Sure will, bestie! Not like that Corgi. She'd lick anything that could scratch her right."_

"Well.. she DID always sniff strangers whenever I took her for a walk."

 _"I would NEVER sniff strangers, Bestie. I would disembowell them and feast on their souls."_

"I thought you said you would stop that."

 _"Starting now."_

Arades took one last glance at himself in the supremely polished finish of the mirror shield. "It's just what I make it out to be." he whispered to himself, lowering the helmet over his flaming head.

 _"That's the spirit, Bestie. Wanna go kill something? That always makes me feel better."_

"Yeah… Yeah, I think I'd like that."

 _"C'mon, then. Lets go find something squishy and full of blood. Like that corgi"_

"Pepi is off limits for killing, Dec."

 _"Worth a shot. Y'know that snake haired meatsack was gonna tell you that the castle was teleported."_

"What? How'd you know that?"

 _"I overheard the help talking about it when you rushed past them, in a fit of weakness."_

"Wait… Were you the thing getting rid of my emotions?"

 _"Nope. If I could do that, I would've stopped that meatbag from crying. It was getting annoying."_

"Your not lying?"

 _"I can't lie. Buraduga was not a big fan of Pinocchio."_

"Huh. Well, what was that about teleporting?"

" _Well, we COULD be In a whole other place. New place, new life. New life, new things to kill."_

"Your not wrong."

 _"Your damn right I'm not wrong. Lets go-"_

BAM. BAM. BAM. Arades recoginsed that sound. The knocker on his castle gate. He had it installed more as a formality. Raider Clans weren't going to introduce themselves, unless they were REALLY stupid.

"Foul abomination! Your fetid prescence is a stain upon the land of the Forest God! Leave, or be removed… from…uh…LIFE!"

the Decimator hummed. _"Sound like something killable. And righteous. Two great tastes that taste great together."_

Despite himself, Arades smiled.

"Well, lets go see what the new combat is like. High Five!"

Arades high fived his sword, severing all the fingers from his palm. They fell to the ground with a dull thud.

"AGGgghHhhHG!"

 _"Im sorry! Im Sorry! I cant help it! I'm effortlessly sharp! Buraduga was a very good craftsman!"_

"It's fine..Its fine... I have the 'Healing Hellfire' perk. Fingers grow back."

 _"Im so sorry, Boss."_

"It's fine, honestly. Lets just go kill these people."

 _"Read my mind, boss. Read my mind."_


	3. Chapter 3: Meanwhile In Other Place

In a Kingdom not too far away, around an hour before the arrival of an impractical castle and its emotionally unstable owner, there was a celebration. A marvellous, joyous, city encompassing celebration. Streets were bursting with technicolour activity, a constant crowd of colourful celebrants careening their way through the city past row upon row of banner ridden houses, circling around the rowdy tavern goers spilling onto the streets.

At the city's centre is where the festivities hit their peak. Tents of all shapes and sizes were pitched against the cobble, enchanted with patterns that swirled lazily against their surface. The King has hired entertainers from all over the land, from the fire breathers of the Blazing Dunes, to Elven fortune tellers from who could change your luck with a little prophecy from their lips and a lot your coin in their hand.

The Tamers League had provided their most thrilling charges for display, at the request and compensation of the Royal Family. A Great Forest Bear lay chained in a cage to be gawked a safe distance. When a wayward gust of wind brushed against the cage, it snorted and raised its head towards a roast chicken stall, the owner of which had begun to edge away nervously.

Sweet and invigorating birdsong swept across the crowds from flocks of silvery falcons, gliding above shocked and delighted faces to return and depart from monster tamers.

Far above, from the discomfort of a wooden throne, the King watched. He swirled a bejewelled goblet in his gold banded fingers, regarding the celebrations proudly. Another year of great prosperity for his domain, albeit one with more than a few brigand attacks.

Or was it monsters? And when did he authorise such a celebration?

"My King. You seem troubled?"

Ah. His wife, the queen. A marriage of convenience, if nothing else. Was that _right_? He thought he loved her. She had borne him sons, as was expected, but that darling(NO)damnable little princess...

"Ehrm, nothing poppet. Just thinking of our little angel. Where, ah, where has the little tyke gotten to, by the by?" He said in his Family Man voice, trying to sound engaged.

The queen giggled, her brilliant green eyes fluttering with amusement. How he loved (NO) hated her.

"She is with the guard, my Lord, watching them practice. She wishes to be a Tamer one day, she tells me, perhaps to emulate the great Elyssis. Isn't childhood a wonderful thing?"

Childhood most certainly was (NO) not. And Elyssis was nothing but their greatest her(NO)patriotic fairytale.

As he looked forw(NO)forced to telling his children when they had troub(NO)nightmares, Elyssis was greeeaaat and miiiggghhty warrior who yadda yadda Evil Deity yadda yadda tamed thousands of legendary beasts yadda yadda yadda four left standing yadda yadda saved the world, founded the kingdom, died prophecy unfulfilled, extremely handsome and funny man imprisoned beneath the palace. Goodness. Where had that come fro-(HATE)

If you asked him, those sorts of foppy namby pamby stories should be illegal. He had actually tried to pass that bill, but his advisor had convinced him against it. Did he? He had trouble recalling...

"My King. You seem troubled?"

Speak of the devil. There was his advisor now. Wait, was i(YES) Ah, of course it was. His wife excused herself to go CONSUMED EGG. What a carin(NO) awful woman. Simply awful. He took another sip of his drink. This was good stuff, whatever it was.

"You are mistaken, Royo. My mind is as clear as the night sky."

"My Lord, if I may, is the night sky not speckled with stars? Surely it would be incorrect to proclaim it 'clear'?"

"Well I proclaim it. New law: the night sky is clear. Execute anyone who says otherwise."

"Your Highness, is that not-"

"Shut up. What in the Elements do you want? Can you not see me revelling?"

He waved his muscled arms around the empty balcony in emphasis, chuckling at a table waving frantically at him. He needed some more wine. His goblet was empty. Wait, never mind. He drank deeply. He caught a glimpse of the advisor slowly and carefully removing the legs of a table from above the rim of his cup. How strange(NO) perfectly normal of him.

"I am most loathe to interrupt such hearty... er, 'revelry', Sire, but there has been a slight complication at the border. Nothing beyond your ability, of course, but-"

"For the love of all haaaarmony, OUT WITH IT MAN!" _Ssssip._

"The army is gone."

At this, the King blanched. He directed a watery blue eye at the goblet in his hand. Maybe it needed to stay empty. He cleared his throat, shifting his weight to face him in full.

"What do you mean... gone?"

The advisor brushed imaginary dust from his immaculate leggings, cleared his throat, and gently plucked the crown from the Kings head. In any other circumstance, the King would have been outraged. But he seemed unnaturally unfazed under current circumstances. He supposed it was in his royal blood.

"Excellency, it seems to have been the work of some kind of necromancy-affluent persons. What with the condition of the dead. Or rather, Undead."

If the kings eyes went any wider they would have bee s.

"Undead? Here? By the Elements... does the Slane Theocracy know of this?"

It might have been his imagination, but did the advisors eyes narrow somewh(NO). It was definitely his imagination. Silly King. Silly imagination.

"My Lard, are you alright? You seem out of sorts. Might just be your FAT HEAD."

The kung chunkled gund naturedly.

"You rascal, Royo. I'm a married man, thank you very such. Now, what erm.. what should we grew about these Unfed? Send over a box of chocolates?"

The King didn't know what a box was. Or chocolates. They sounded nice though, especially for these Unfed blokes.

"Your Lowness, are you not a monarch butterfly? Flutterer of your people? You must LEAD the army! Take down this threat head on! Watch your sons die in battle!"

The King roared in agreement. Several passers by exploded upon its issue from his bestached lip.

"You're damn right Royo! I should feed these poor misers chocolate mySELF! Like a door frame deer aghast terror mahogany foolfoolfoolfool-"

"Ah. It seems my time is coming to an end. I bid you good luck in your battle. Oh, and do make sure the Slane Theocrazies pop over. We have SO much catching up to do. Adieu."

With that, the lamp post evaporated into thin bear. He expected nothing less from DECIEVERTWISTERDONOTLISTENKINGDOMFALLHAROLDH

"-arold! Someone get me a healer, your KING IS- Harold! You're awake!"

The King eyes had snapped open. His vision was blurred slightly, but he could still make out the visage of his beloved. Someone had left a table with no legs at his side. He struggled upwards, with the shaking support of the Queen. He remembered going to bed, and... the rest was fuzzy. He felt mightily quenched of thirst, though.

"Beatrice? What... what ah-" Before he could finish his sentence, the King vomited in a marvellous shade of rainbow before promptly falling back down again. His vision had cleared and- by the Elements. That wasn't a table.

Beatrice followed his horrified gaze with tear filled eyes.

"The Prophetess... I got woken up when she entered our chambers and went mad... screaming and clawing at her face. It was horrible, Harold."

"Why is she... like that?"

"I thought it was the court jester but...H-He just grabbed her arm and...Oh Harold, what are we going to do! The Prophetess is dead and there is news of undead in the Forest and-"

Shakily, King Harold of the Green stood. He silenced her with a raised hand and turned to face her with a slight smile on his sweat laden face.

"We tell them we're going to war, talking chair. Their King and his sons are going to war."


	4. Authors Note

Hello all!

I would like to say that the reason for my unexplained absence is that I did, in fact, die. But I'm all right now (Thank you NHS). Chapters from here on out will be, God willing, weekly. Not that everyone was exactly waiting with bated breath. I intend to stick with this series no matter what, and hav for the future. Cya in another years time (Jk probably next week).


End file.
